Nothing Else Matters
by ashhead
Summary: Jack immediately after day 3 as he deals with the day.


Jack Bauer, head of field ops, CTU, was crying his car, silent tears that never should have fallen, but that he was powerless to stop. Like a small child, they just kept coming, his body infuriated with him for what he had put it through, his mind rebelling at everything he had seen, nothing willing to respond to his demands that he stop this ridiculousness. He hadn't cried in forever, not since he had laid his wife to rest, and even then, not so that anyone could see. So what was he doing here, in the car park of a hospital, surrounded by people whose lives were inevitably so much worse than his, crying for no discernible reason.

Of course, there were reasons. He had just cut the arm off his partner, ripped an axe through the flesh of the man his daughter loved. But that couldn't be a reason, he was doing it to save the country, to save all of those children, staring at him in wide eyed innocence, with no idea what was happening. Why would he be sad over that, it was something to rejoice in, that he was strong enough to make the right decision, to carry out his job over anything. But he couldn't carry that line of thought through, couldn't make himself believe that he had made the right decision.

Tony, Tony had made the wrong decision, and he was stronger than Tony. Even when Tony had baited him, dangling his wife's death in front of him, taunting him, Jack had been strong enough to resist. Why now could he not muster the strength to be happy with his decision. Sure, his friend was going to prison, probably for a very long time, and sure he'd have to go back to work, face Michelle's hollow eyes boring into him, haunted. But that wasn't his problem, he didn't have to deal with it. He had made the right choice.

But there were other reasons, pictures that flashed in front of him as he struggled to keep the tears from his eyes. Steven Saunders, a friend, a man that he had trusted with his life, someone who he believed in beyond all limits. Steven Saunders, lying on a dusty floor, bloody hair matted with sand, eyes dead, dry blood streaking his face, crusted into every orifice. A split second, a choice. He can't be alive, not like that, too much blood, wounds too old. Have to leave. Steven Saunders, the root of all of this. Guilt, now there's a suitable reason. But he's not crying over that, he can't, the amount of guilt he feels is so overshadowed by anything else that it can't reach anywhere near the core of him, nowhere near where these tears are coming from.

Kim, holding her against a wall, screaming at her, wanting her to understand, anything so that she'll be safe. He needs to keep her safe, it's the only reason he has, he can't survive if she isn't safe. He arms grasping at him, wanting his reassurance as a body spurts blood on the pavement beside her. Her eyes, desperately wanting reassurance as he tells her the truth, not accusing, just there.

Heroin. Now that he could cry for, he's done many things for it, depraved, disgusting acts. Can he come back from it, or more importantly, does he care? No, clearly not, he doesn't care at all, it's too much for him to care for, he shakes with futility, with a need to clear himself of everything, and no, he doesn't care, not at all.

Claudia, an excuse and a half. A way in, a way out, a freedom, an abuse. Dead, not at his hands, but that doesn't really matter, dead anyway. Her kiss still pressed against his lips, her salty tears making their way into his mouth, damp cheeks rubbing against his. He would cry for her, if he could, but that doesn't matter either. He's as dead as she is.

Nina, dead eyes meeting his through a cloud of smoke. Finality, if not an end. She's still there, still watching him, she always will be. Her voice taunts him, she tells him he's the reason Teri's in his arms, cold, so far away. That's why he cries. He can't reach her. He needs her and she's too far away. And Nina's still there, he can't hide from her, he needs Teri, to help him hide, to take all this away, and she won't come, she can't, he's killed her.

So he cries anyway, nothing else he can do, nothing else that matters. Even when the tears stop, they're still there, Nina's still there, holding the pistol as he lies on the floor, life draining from him with the blood he can feel seeping onto his fingers. He can't reach Teri, he never will, and he can't hide, so he cries instead. Nothing else matters.


End file.
